


For Your Time (I'll Give You This Smile)

by Liana_Legaspi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Day/Night, Light Angst, M/M, beanpots au, day and night au, i've been told to tag this as the aurora borealis fic, on another note beanpots has noticed me, this is the aurora borealis fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liana_Legaspi/pseuds/Liana_Legaspi
Summary: “Do you love me?” the King of Day says to Yuuri’s retreating back.Stop.Think.“I haven’t decided yet.” Yuuri confesses, “I might hate you.”There’s a smile in Viktor’s voice that’s sweeter than any lullaby Yuuri’s ever heard. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll wait with you until you decide.”Based on beanpots's Day and Night AU, in which Day and Night fall in love through creases in time.





	

“Do you believe that opposites attract?”

“I believe that we couldn’t exist without each other.”

 

 

             

“Did you know there are more colors than just this, Otabek?”

Picture this: a fracture in time where there is only golden light, ever-changing skies, and a field of flowers. Warm. Vibrant. A fracture in time where life thrives.

“I’m aware,” Otabek tells him, voice carefully neutral.

Now picture this: nothing but a boat, an Ocean of Dreams, a Man in the Moon, and his stars. Yuuri sits on the edge of his sailboat, feet dangling in the water, the waves rocking him back and forth like a lullaby. In one fist is a handful of Yuuri’s robes, holding them just out of reach of the ocean’s caress. In the other, a rose.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “Have you seen any of them?”

Otabek’s head is bowed. Yuuri knows his answer before he even speaks. Too many millennia spent together, he supposes. “I see only what you do.”

The curse of a royal guard, the oath of the Man in the Moon, destined to follow him ‘til the end. Yuuri's smile turns rueful, moonlight softening his features only just.

“How boring,” he drawls.

The soft, sad smile Yuuri gets in return itches at his skin, and so he turns his attention away from Otabek to the small treasure in his hands.

Cold light could never hide its vibrancy. Petals redder than a blood moon, stem greener than a stormy night. Yuuri holds it close and breathes in the scent, eyes fluttering shut. First, a gardenia on the Sky Court’s throne that he didn’t dare touch. Second, a single viscaria that Yuuri eyed warily. Third, a red rose that he knows was left for him.

“It’s beautiful,” Otabek offers.

Hand laying on his heart and leaning against the ship’s mast, Yuuri watches as the colors finally bleed from the rose.

Petals turn to stardust in his hands.

“It was,” he agrees.

      

       

 

There’s a crease in time that stands between Night and Day. Twenty-four pillars, a single throne, and nothing but cool clouds beneath Yuuri’s feet, winding around his ankles and kissing the stars in his cloak. The Sky Court, where Night and Day will peacefully trade places ‘til the end.

Yuuri only knows the back of Viktor’s head and vice versa. Only knows the vibrancy of his robes and the cheerful blue of his hair. Rise from the throne just before the other arrives and silently return to their respective realms, moving like clockwork around each other. Never a word traded, never a glance back from either of them.

Until…

“Why do you place them in the sky?”

Pause. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Orion, Hercules—your constellations.”

Something in Yuuri burns. The curiosity as tempting as the forbidden fruit that cast Adam and Eve from the Garden, and for the first time, he peers back over his shoulder—and stops. Breath hitching. Bright blue, the one shade Yuuri will never find in his realm no matter how far and wide he searches. Those are the eyes of King Viktor.

Even kings falter, and Yuuri is no exception. This is an unprecedented pause in their dance, and no one’s taught him the following steps. The stars crowning his head almost feel as if they’re searing his brow.

“What are their purpose?” Viktor asks Yuuri.

A rueful, tight smile. “Being beautiful isn’t enough?” He turns his eyes away, the colors of Viktor too bright, too enchanting to look at. Yuuri isn’t used to them. “They’re my one gift to the mortals.” He continues, “To watch over them while they dream and to guide them on their way, should they ever wander through the dark.”

 _To sweeten the loneliness of Night_ , is what Yuuri doesn’t tell him. _To give Otabek company_.

“Good morning, my King,” says Yuuri, and it may as well mean, _Goodbye_.

 

 

 

In Yuuri’s hands is a chalice, something silver and ethereal churning inside it. He offers the cup to Viktor with both hands as if it’s a tribute. For all the King of Day knows, it is. He stares, enraptured, and something about the softness of his face makes Yuuri bow his head.

He doesn’t walk forward, isn’t sure how to span the distance between them. Yuuri raises the chalice in a mock toast and sets it on the throne.

“A cup from the Ocean of Dreams as thank you for the rose,” Yuuri states, serene if not for the heat on his cheeks. He makes his way to his chariot swiftly, a hasty retreat back to his realm.

“You’re running from me,” Viktor observes.

Yuuri doesn’t look back. “I’m doing my job.”

 

 

             

“I was thinking of you.”

Yuuri nods slowly, not willing to admit he was doing the same. “All right.”

Viktor turns around fully, the second time they’ve ever faced each other since the beginning. His eyes are warm in a way the Ocean of Dreams isn’t and alive in way the ocean is. Yuuri doesn’t feel like he’s drowning though, no. He feels like he’s been swallowed whole, engulfed by his very own stars.

Viktor muses aloud, “It’s heartbreaking really. You paint the mortals a masterpiece, but when night falls, they quake in its presence.” He says again, “It’s heartbreaking.”

Yuuri casts him a side glance, appraising him with a cool eye despite the burning just underneath the dark blue of his own skin. He wonders if Viktor knows why the mortals tremble. Wonders if he’s being mocked.

He thinks of the beasts that dwell in the depths his ocean. The monstrous, hooved creatures that not even Otabek can vanquish. He looks at Viktor and wonders how powerful he must feel to be able to strike down the Nightmares by only existing, by merely raising the sun.

He doesn’t mean to say a word. Doesn’t intend to say anything out loud, doesn’t mean to shatter the détente they’ve found themselves in, but…

“Am I frightening?”

Viktor’s smile is kind. Warm. “I think you’re enchanting.”

Yuuri stares at him. He fantasizes about what would happen if he took Viktor’s hand. Would he be swallowed up by the dark and drown in the oceans of Yuuri’s kiss? Or would Viktor’s touch dissolve him into nothing more than stardust and soft pastels? Yuuri wets his lips. He says, “I think you’re a dreamer.”

There’s the barest wrinkle in order when Night and Day stand together on the Sky Court. Neither moving. Yuuri drinks in the blue of Viktor’s eyes and the yellow of his robe and thinks, _If I ran away now and hid myself in the form of a mortal, would you chase after me even then?_ The question sits on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t voice it.

Red and gold clash against black, and the spell shatters. Yuuri turns on his heel, taking long strides toward his chariot. The stars on his cloak and on his brow fading the brighter the sky gets.

“Do you love me?” Viktor says to Yuuri’s retreating back.

Stop.

Think.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Yuuri confesses, “I might hate you.”

There’s a smile in Viktor’s voice that’s sweeter than any lullaby Yuuri’s ever heard. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll wait with you until you decide.”

 

 

 

“Yuuri, what do you think of rainbows?”

“I think I’d like to touch one.”

“If I made one for you now, would you?”

Petals to stardust. Red to white. Yuuri shuts his eyes. “Don’t be silly.”

 

 

 

“I wish I could show you all the wonders Day holds. I wish I could see the Ocean of Dreams for myself.”

Eyes closed, sleepy. Yuuri hums. “That’s impossible.”

“Not truly.” Once he opens his eyes, casting Viktor a curious look, the King of Day continues, “If you could rule Day, you would be able to wander freely between both realms. The Sky Court would be yours and yours alone.”

The smile Yuuri gives him is a mocking one. “And if I did take it all?” he challenges. “Conquered Day and ruled them both? What then?”            

Viktor laughs softly, takes Yuuri’s hand and presses a chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Then I would kneel.”

Yuuri flinches and pulls away sharply. When he flies away on his chariot of moonlight, drawn by horses made out of crashing waves, it’s with a heart that sits heavily in his chest and a plan that arouses protests from Otabek.

Yuuri decides he’s grown tired of their dance.

He fashions Phichit out of only the happiest dreams, the mellowest currents of the ocean. For Yura, he gathers the stardust left from Viktor’s rose and presses a single kiss on his forehead. The Herald of the Dusk and the Herald of the Dawn—forever to separate Day and Night.

“Are you really going to do this, Yuuri?” Otabek urges, “It’s not too late to turn back.”

Yuuri looks at his creations. It isn’t too late to turn back, but he won’t leave Phichit and Yura without a purpose. He tucks a golden lock of hair—the same color as Viktor’s robes—behind the newly born herald’s ear. He knows full-well that Night isn’t a realm Yura can survive in, not like Phichit. The Herald of Dawn relies on light and warmth in the same way the rose he was formed from did.

Yuuri’s realm is a colorless one, but he does what he can. Takes only the purest rays of starlight and turns it into a white, glimmering cloak for Yura to greet daybreak with.

To greet Viktor with.

"Don’t do this,” Otabek tries.

Chilly, barren—the look Yuuri gives his guard is one that can slice through stone. “Since when has the Man in the Moon ever told me what to do?”

The night that follows in the darkest one in history.

 

 

             

It’s a new dance.

At Yura’s arrival, Yuuri learns to leave swiftly. As for Phichit, Yuuri learns to turn a deaf ear to the herald’s words and a blind eye to the red roses he holds in his hands.

“A gift from the King of Day,” Phichit will murmur.

Yuuri will say, “Good night.”

Days, years—centuries pass him by. Yuuri calls forth night when it’s time and spends the rest on his boat, drifting aimlessly beneath blues, greys, blacks, and whites. Some days he gazes into the ocean’s depths and wonders how far Otabek would let him go before pulling him back out.

“You’re lonely,” his guard tells him.

There’s no use in denying that. The gossamer sails flutter against the breeze. Yuuri bows his head once in acknowledgement. “Yes.”

Otabek stands beside him, diligent as ever and just as infuriatingly stoic as when they first met. “You miss him.”

At that, Yuuri laughs. “It gets lonely at night.”

 

 

 

Yura grabs a fistful of his cloak just as Yuuri’s turning to leave, to peacefully give way to Day. His eyes are as green as the stem of Viktor’s rose and looking at them leaves an empty pang in his chest.

“Look at the sky,” Yura commands. “When you return to the Night, look at your sky.”

Yuuri looks at him with a half-lidded, jaded gaze. “Why?”

Yura shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. “Look at the sky and know you’re loved,” he says instead. Rhythmic, in a way that tells Yuuri that these are words sent from Viktor himself.

Yura and his creator stare at each other for one long, drawn out moment, before the Herald of the Dawn finally releases him. Flowers and stardust—not even Yuuri’s constellations hold a candle to the being before him.

Yuuri flies away from the Sky Court without another word and lays curled up against the mast of his sailboat. Waiting with baited breath and a storm brewing inside him, uncertain. Frustrated, he sinks his teeth into the skin of his hand, the stretch just between his pointer and thumb, but he doesn’t close his eyes.

Otabek watches him with a furrowed brow, “Are you hurt?”

Yuuri lowers his hand. Swallows thickly. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For—” Yuuri stops himself.

He looks at Otabek with a dawning realization, and something his chest plummets. There’s a stinging sensation at the back of his eyes, and he chokes out a laugh. Amused at his own folly and disdainful of his own ignorance. He can wait for an eternity and a half, and all he will ever have is Night. This, Yuuri knows, is both his cradle and his death sentence: a sailboat, the Man in the Moon, and the Ocean of Dreams.

He fantasizes about a world without dark. One where only Day reigned supreme—

And then it happens.

First, a gardenia. Second, a lonely viscaria. Third, a rose redder than anything Yuuri’s ever seen. And now…

Something wet trickles down the side of cheek, and he stares up at his own sky with more wonder than he has in millennia. A streak juts across the dark expanse. Greens and pinks and reds glimmer alongside his constellations.

Yuuri summons his chariot without a thought, heedless of the fact that it’s not yet time, and flies. Perhaps Fate will have a reckoning with him. Perhaps the mortals will look at the sky and think that, today, the world ends.

The King of Night strides into the Sky Court in the middle of a golden Day.

Viktor’s face is haggard, red in places it wasn’t before. Yuuri wants to run forward, wants to hold him, but he finds himself just as frozen by Viktor’s gaze as the first morning they spoke. His breath catches in his throat and his tongue sits heavily in his own mouth.

Yuuri draws in a shaking breath, and whispers, helpless, “The lights.”

The King of Day sits on the throne with wide eyes and a hopeful crease in his brow. Something cold and salty like the sea streaks down Yuuri’s face. He croaks again, “The lights.”

Viktor swallows, blinking rapidly before finally— _finally_ speaking. “It’s not a rainbow,” he apologizes, something wet gathering in his blue, blue eyes. “I couldn’t make one for you. Every time I tried, it never made it farther than the Sky Court. But…” He takes a moment to compose himself. “But I hope it’s enough.”

“Not a rainbow,” Yuuri verifies.

Viktor rises from the throne they’ve shared for more millennia than they can remember and slowly makes his way towards him. Day crosses the gap to stand before Night, footsteps silent against the clouds. “The Aurora Borealis,” he murmurs. Viktor lowers his head, eyes shut and almost touching his forehead to Yuuri’s. “Even if you don’t want me. Even if you don’t love me, I wanted to give you as many colors as I could.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri starts, voice uneven in a way it’s never been before.

“You’re not lonely, are you?”

A sharp intake of breath, a bursting somewhere within Yuuri’s chest. The sky is in chaos, a cacophony of blacks and dark blues against brilliant pinks and golds. Yuuri’s constellations shine within Viktor’s colors.

Night holds Day in his arms and thinks, _I would give you the Ocean of Dreams if only to see you smile_.

             

             

 

“Have you decided yet?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Yuuri reaches out a blue, star-dusted hand to cup Viktor’s face. “It’s love.”

 

 

 

_"Most definitely love.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not big on world-building so this was kind of a stretch for me. Normally I just try to stay away from it entirely (sticking to my strengths, you know?), but I read beanpots’s AU last night and...well. Hope you guys enjoyed!


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